


The City of Five Seasons

by Saslen



Category: Changeling: The Lost, World of Darkness (Games)
Genre: BABBY'S FIRST FANFIC, Fae & Faeries, Gen, Magical Realism, Past Violence, The True Fae are dicks, apparently that last one can only be written in caps, as basically all of CofD is at heart, go figure, in the most loving way possible, no beta we die like mem, so is Hiran
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27869257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saslen/pseuds/Saslen
Summary: In the City of Five Seasons, tensions are high between the seasonal freehold of Red Ferry and the diurnal freehold of Shepherd's Claim, with both sides jockeying for new changelings, goblin fruits, and glamour. Jack White, Old Hiran, and Sister Solaris: Enter stage right.A generic guy, a snake man, and a star-woman walk out of a Hedge.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	The City of Five Seasons

**Author's Note:**

> Note that I have no clue if I'm actually going to continue this. I'm more a poet than a prose writer (and even that's shaky).

_Spring, 2007_

Beneath the old oak tree, Jack White waited. Morbid, perhaps, to be spending so much of his time skulking about a cemetery. Grassy grave plots surrounded the man, while a less-than-appealing road cut in before him. It could do with a repaving.

Jack didn’t really have much else to do but wait. The tree made up the majority of his _before_ , after all. Before the blank-masked _thing’s_ maze. Before the thousand foreign faces staring back at him in a thousand panes of glass. Before snapping dogs shattered so many of the mirrors. Before his soon-to-be motley-mates Hiran and Solaris dragged him free from the Thorns into the safety of the Oak Hill Cemetery, wolves of tangled brambles snapping at their heels.

Yes, that old tree was safety. A place where he could feel like, once upon a time, he _was someone_. Of course, it helped that his face came here often, muttering and arguing with itself. Certainly kept Oak Hill interesting, established Hedge gate aside.

He hadn’t known what his face looked like before. As it was, the gaunt Darkling’s face was little more than an abstraction — as though an artist had tried to draw the essence of the generic. Any attempt to nail down precise facial features tended to fail. Then, in the midst of Jack’s pilgrimage to the cemetery, his old face came wandering in, dirt-smudged and covered in a tangled beard. Familiarity struck the changeling like lightning, his own visage shifting for a moment in sympathy.

“Fetches,” Jack remembered King Pearson calling them, usually-pleasant aroma turning to sharp rafflesian rot. The king had called the freehold’s three newest changelings to the commons, so as to teach them the bare basics of this new existence. The building, located close by to Coe College, was owned by Equin Law, a company led by five Red Ferry changelings. This floor in particular was nominally reserved for private meetings. In truth, it was a gathering place for the freehold.

“Walking mockeries of our durance,” the king continued, “made of twigs and twine and bits of shadow. Not enough that the Strangers took our freedom — they had to take our damned lives, too. You think your families will want you back? Odds are, they never knew you left to begin with.”

Not that he was in the best headspace at the time, still gathering together bits and pieces of his own identity, but Jack vaguely recalled Hiran’s seething anger rising to match Pearson’s uncharacteristic wrath, before subsiding into a sullen thoughtfulness. Solaris pointedly edged away from Hiran slightly.

“Can They tell?” the Ogre eventually asked, slitted eyes staring intently at the Vernal King.

“Hm?”

“When these things die. Can the fuckers tell? They made them, after all.” 

“Doubtful. Duchy’d certainly be screwed if They could. Just… try not to draw too much attention to yourself. Wanton, ill-planned murder tends to get Old Man Winter in a tizzy. Brings too many eyes in our direction. Can’t say I’m fond of it myself.” Pearson snorted. “Romero would probably cream herself, though.”

Definitely hadn’t imagined Hiran’s sneer, there, scales stretching and tightening against his face. Solaris edged away just a little bit further.

Wasn’t the first time Hiran had displayed his disdain for the political world that apparently ruled the freeholds here; he certainly had never felt the need to be subtle about his opinions. “Neo-feudal bullshit,” as he had so eloquently described matters. Made things awkward, given the Red Ferry freehold’s Winter Court had found the three and Spring taught them what they needed to know. Jack didn’t think it would have killed Hiran to show the slightest bit of gratitude to people willing to help. The Darkling couldn’t imagine that many freeholds had a sovereign so willing to step in to help the new guys.

From the whispers (propaganda, being perfectly honest; Jack's gratitude didn't make him so naïve as to believe otherwise) of Shepherd’s Claim, they certainly didn’t.

King Pearson’s free time was not endless, however. Leaving the commons, the three drove out to the dingy, one-bedroom apartment, bed not included, that the Winter Court had secured for the motley. The silence was suffocating, but better than the shouting matches that had defined the motley's earliest days in their home between the “ass-kisser playing nice with Keeper wannabes” and the “uncultured swine incapable of understanding political realities”.

For all that they had fought to survive together on that nightmarish journey out of the Hedge, the Darkling, Fairest, and Ogre were of vastly different temperaments: Jack was a quiet, retiring man doing his best to pick up pieces of himself from that maze of a thousand faces; Solaris was a woman radiating quiet authority, whose personality clashed with their third, Old Hiran; the Ogre himself was a straightforward, green-scaled brute of a man whose durance left him wholly unprepared for a world where violence could not solve his problems.

Needless to say, the three eagerly sought employment so as to get space from one another. Hiran had even succeeded already, finding himself well-suited to construction work. 

Jack had, unfortunately, been not quite so successful, not having Hiran's physical bulk to leverage and lacking a work history on account of having been kidnapped to another world. Pearson had directed them to one Cayetano Catalán for new histories and all that, but until the Winter courtier finished...

_Right. Bring your durance up in the interview. I’m sure there’ll be a nice padded cell with your name on it, Jack. Room and board!_

Alas, the Darkling could only sit there, waiting for e-mails from potential employers, for so long. He set out, back to watching his double at the cemetery as he had for the past week.

“Why do you do this to yourself?”

Solaris seemed almost amused, sauntering in from between the trees, plasma subtly curling whimsically from her body, a remnant of the Telluric’s time serving the Others.

“Have to fill my time with something,” Jack responded. “I may not have the flair for unabashed violence that Hiran does, but I still have it in me to stalk an old homeless man.”

Jack’s old face, meanwhile, was losing its argument with itself.

“…Right. Look, since this guy probably isn’t going anywhere soon, we might as well get a start on the job hunt.”

“Waiting on replies fr—”

“Not those jobs. _I’ve_ been doing some asking around the freehold, since you’ve been busy with your stalking and Hiran is…”

“An unmitigated ass to every other changeling he sees?”

“… is Hiran, yes.” Solaris scowled. “He’s found his, too, you know. Probably plotting murder right about now. Anyway, point is, you can’t expect that the freehold is doing these things for us with no expectation of reward, yeah? They pledged to help us get started, and in return…”

She wasn’t wrong there. Wyrd-backed pledges and oaths were what made the world go ‘round. After all, when you’ve escaped from the torturous grip of a mad god, you’re going to need some reassurance of reciprocity in your relationships. Make sure the people around you haven’t fallen prey to the “abused guy-turned-abuser” phenomenon. Hell, their pledge to one another was what ensured that Jack, Solaris, and Hiran could trust each other. Nothing like the threat of a supernatural sanction to keep friends together! But from what little Jack knew of the subject, pledges were almost always two-way.

“Greta Greenthumb,” Solaris continued, “has been running low on goblin fruits. Specifically, anything to sharpen dreams. Apparently, Autumn’s oneiromancers have been complaining to her about the lack of supply lately. They can’t do their jobs as efficiently without them. She’s offered enough to make our car payment this month if she’s pleased by the haul. Care to accept?”

_Would I care to enter a Fairy Tale hell filled with literal big bad wolves to pick fruit for a bunch of would-be prophets? On the other hand, would I care to default on our car payment and get in a pile of financial shit?_

“On to collect our dear friend, then, Solaris?”

“Lead the way, White.”


End file.
